Fool Of A Took
by Moon Witch '96
Summary: Ivy Took was a fool. She wanted nothing but adventure, and maybe even more knowledge in just what and who she was. She never thought that the adventure where her cousin was a burglar would lead to this much pain. Based on both the book, and the movie. Please Read And Review.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Ivy Took was the odd one.

That was what all the whispers throughout the Shire said about one Ivy Took. The thing was, that little fact about her was quite true, unlike her family, the very infamous and much gossiped about Tooks, she was a decent sort of hobbit. Yet, at the same time she had her strange little things that made her not only an odd Took, but an odd hobbit at the same time. Not of course, to the scandalous degree as her surname would imply, but close enough to start the whispers. She was decent hobbit lass, and many of the hobbit lads had been eying the odd one, but shied away because of her oddness, and her caretaker.

The odd one herself seemed not at all to care of the opinions of others, nor take not of the hobbit lads and kept to her odd ways. She was a merry little thing, smart and with a sliver tongue, and a sort of misty serene air that always made the tongues of her fellow hobbits wag in high speeds, wondering just how she was so odd. But she was quiet. Never one to speak much, but rather liked to listen instead, but oddly enough, not to gossip as the rest of her kind tended to do.

It wasn't just in her personality, but in her own physical appearance, which was by the most part, hobbit, was something else and so decidedly not hobbit that many speculated to how such a look could inhabit the shire, and who exactly her very Tookish father had sired such a child with to make her look as she did, and even dress as she did, for she never wore a gown as other hobbit woman did, but trousers and shirts as the males...

But, the real reason Ivy Took was at such debate for her oddness within the every repeat gossip mill of the Shire was the simple reason that no one knew who the girl mother's was. The rumors ranged from the fact that her mother was an elf which was the most popular thought, a dwarf which was the least considered, and even more scandalously the fact that Marroc Took had stolen the girl from the other side of The River, which was why she was so odd.

Her long, fiery red hair was so sleek and so unhobbit like that most hobbits stared, so used to the brown curls that everyone with sense had. Her pale skin was striking against said hair, as were the cat tilted blue eyes that were set in her angular face. A great number of Tooks that had explored the world claimed that her features, from her tiny, scandalously hairless feet and legs, to the sharp angled limbs were elvish, which supported her eleven mother theory. Another number of the Tooks said that the girl did look elvish true, but she didn't look quite right. Her cheekbones maybe too high or her nose too sharp, her lips too small or plump. Her eyes not the quite the right size, maybe a little too high in its feline tilt. So, the whispers went on and on to who she was, and who her mother had been.

Many regretted the fact that Marroc Took, nor the mother was around to question, as the one known parent had died a few years after he had come home with the then babe Ivy, who had only been the tender age of five. So, it was assumed that not even the hobbit lass in question knew of her origin, for if she did she would never act so hobbitish, no matter how odd she was. Neither did her caretaker could know, Bilbo Baggins, for he was the most respectable of respectable of hobbits, despite his Took blood and had only taken the babe in because of his maternal Uncle's request. Family, no matter how odd or unhobbitish was the most important thing to hobbits, other than gossip, of course.

In all, the odd girl had turned out the best possible way under the care of the then young Bilbo, who hadn't even come of age when the silent child had come to him. Many where surprised when he had all but stolen the child away from her Took family members, but felt it for the best. After all, no matter how odd, the girl was respectable, and in the end, that was what mattered most. Odd, or not, the girl was a hobbit, and a hobbit through and through. How very wrong they were.


	2. A Burglar For A Cousin

**A Burglar Of A Cousin**

Cat tilted eyes glared carefully in front of them, the sharpest of blue with embers of other shades crackling within the starling irises. The owner of those eyes flicked her fiery bangs out of her face as she concentrated, noting that her hair needed a trim, again. She almost hated her overly bright hair, simply because it was such a bother, as it grew too fast and too long. It was as if her hair had a mind of its own and wanted to reach her knees at all points in her life. She smiled thinly. No matter what she had tried to keep it short, the stubborn thing always grew back in a matter of hours, no matter how many times she would hack at it... She sighed, moving her thoughts from her hair to once again to the task she was doing in the lush back garden, in the waning shadow of approaching daylight.

The muscles of her back ached, as did those of her arms, just as they always did, when she did this task. Though her frail looking arms seemed too weak to do such a thing, they were still, and because of her stillness she kept her bow steady and tight. It was almost as large as her, as it was a bow made not for half-hobbits (such as herself), or really even full hobbits, but for full grown elves. Hence the rather imperfect size. She was pleased to know that her bow did get long distance targets with ease, though for short distances it was rather tricky and dismal. She didn't mind, for the well made bow she had inherited from her father was supple, and wouldn't wear for decades yet. She enjoyed the smooth wood in her hands, she enjoyed the tight pull of the string and the feel of the smooth shaft of the notched arrow, ready to fly.

She could hear the harsh breathing. She could hear the odd distinctive sound of nervous hiccuping, and knew that one Bilbo Baggins was to her right. Her older cousin was probably looking around in concern, shaking like a leaf and making sure that no hobbits could see what his little cousin was doing. She smiled slightly at the thought of her silly overprotective cousin, but made no other movement, eyes still firm in their gaze.

"Ivy, I'm not sure you should do this... What if you get hurt?" he asked, voice worried, as it always was when he saw his tiny cousin do such things as this, which unfortunately was much too often.

She laughed, a warm, throaty sound that sounded curiously like the crackle of an ember from the hearth. She smiled to her cousin, one much larger than before. Then she made one other movement, a simple gesture with her well practice fingers, and finally let the arrow fly.

She watched with satisfaction when the arrow elegantly hit its mark, an apple, many yards away where it had stood on top of a basket just a moment before, and had fallen by her sparrow feathered tipped arrow. She smiled again, even larger, and listened with amusement as her cousin clapped happily, babbling for a few seconds and then protesting when she notched another arrow, though this time she shot for speed, feeling the rapid and tight string strung over and over as she let each arrow leave her quiver. It was after a moment that it was empty and all of her arrows stuck out of the basket, her rigorous posture relaxed, and the young half-hobbit laughed at her cousin's antics when he went from his scolding attitude to one of delight.

"Amazing! How ever do you do that?" asked her cousin as she gathered up the arrows, placing them in her the quiver, which Bilbo thought was almost as big as herself.

Dozens of different sizes and uses of arrows went back in, the largest being as long as Ivy's waist was tall, and the smallest shorter than the length of her forearm. With expect care, both cousins picked up the assorted arrows, and each careful not to harm the different colored feathers that Ivy had picked with care, all ranging from the dullest of brown (sparrows, whose feather's were best for short flight and a quick one) to the most brilliant shade of blue, which seemed to glow in the sun (bluejay, which suited best for accuracy and distance). Ivy smiled at her cousin's past tone, and pushed back the long strands of her hair that had escaped its tie. She answered him with a soft pinch to his side, settling her quiver along side the much abused basket.

"I practice." she said as she headed for the door, intent on grabbing her leveled 'stick' that suited itself as a practice sword, ignoring his yelp of both annoyance and pain at her action.

One of her cousins had gifted to her the wooden practice sword, (moniker the stick because of its rail like nature) when she had been about twelve, and she had used it just as her she had used her father's bow; ever since it had touched her small hands. She was content to know that she worked quite well with the her wooden sword, elegant in her movements, yet swift. She wasn't an expert she knew,(self practice with no formal teacher around prevented that) and if she ever used a real sword she would most likely not be as well versed in her movements, and quite possibly hurt herself. But nonetheless, one Ivy Took used what she had at hand, which unfortunately wasn't much. Or at least, not much when it came to weaponry. She found that a great pity indeed.

"Care to join me after second-breakfast in the front garden?" asked her cousin, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yes." said Ivy softly, voice serene and misty.

Bilbo smiled at the girl that was almost, but not quite like a daughter to him. She was more of a younger sister to him he thought as she gave her wooden stick a few testing swings. Quickly, as not to get sucked in her light and elegant steps, Bilbo made his way to leave. He was quite tempted to stay and watch her, because he loved just how the girl moved, but, his stomach rumbled rather violently and the Baggins of the house decided that even his little cousin could not win over breakfast (First or second, but more so the former). He picked up her quiver, and her bow to put inside, humming to himself as he went off to eat, starving and hating that the girl always woke at such an early hour(And in turn made him wake at such an hour because he hardly could bare to _**not**_ to watch her morning practices).

The weak, warm rays of dawn were barely starting to light up the sky, and they made his very cozy home light itself with a fiery, ember hue, almost as if the place had gone aflame. It was a lovely, sobering sight, because he knew that more than once had the home of Bag End his father had built caught on fire, and with much more frequency since his little cousin had come into its threshold at that tender age of five, emotions more contained than most, but still there and rather child-like, hence the rather frequent and now familiar sight of flames. He still remembered the very first time he had saw her, all those years ago on that dreadful stormy day;

_It had been such a dull day, full of books and maps, dreams of Rivendell and its inhabitants filling his young mind with a frequency that would have shamed other hobbits of his almost adult age, and should have shamed him really. The weather had been rather dreary, rain pounding at the windows and the sky a massive and dark, turning mess of blacks, blues and violent violet clouds. At even and never changing intervals the hobbit hole would shake with the almost animalistic roar of thunder, or light up with the strikes of lightning. _

_One. Two. Three, strike. Four. Five. Six, roar. _

_And still, he kept to his maps paying the ominous storm no heed, and gazing at them and wishing somehow to be sucked up into the yellowed parchment, to fall into the ink, go to the places beneath his fingertips. And then the recently orphaned Bilbo had answered the door when he had been pulled away from his maps and cakes by a heavy, desperate knock to the door. Grumbling, he had gathered himself up, walking and calling to the heavy sounds with a mad screech that he was coming. He had had the shock of his life as his soaking maternal Uncle (one he had yet to speak to in over ten years, simply because he hadn't really bothered to do) had stepped through his threshold, quiver and bow on his shacking back, and a small child teetering behind him, just as soaked, her frail hand grasped tightly in her father's trembling and weak grasp. _

_The tiny, doll like child had struck something within him. She had the largest, strangest blue eyes he had ever seen, and her form was what he heard elves to be. Face thin and pointed, yet beautiful in its impossible form. Her hair had been straight as a pin, and as red as the fire that had roared in his hearth. Skin as pale as the moon, almost but not quite glowing as it did had sheathed the girl entirely, nor a blemish nor freckle marring it. Her feet tiny, and shocked him with the lack of hair that even little hobbits have, smooth and like the rest of her skin. Elegance even in the light of youth and in her stance. Maturity in the form of silence and set of her brow. The temperance in the shape of her mouth. Intelligence, in the light of her tilted eyes. _

_He had heard of her of course, five years ago the gossip of the babe coming with his Uncle Marroc Took, and of her mother not being with them had filled the Shire with its displeasing whispers, reaching his ears quite plainly. Who had not heard of the complaints of her looks? He had heard it time and time again, and taken in what they had said, memorizing her features from second-handed accounts, and had a basic picture in his mind. But he had never seen his little cousin until this moment, and in that moment he knew that he would come to regret that... Greatly._

_It was also the same moment where her father was dying._

_It didn't take much for Bilbo to half carry, half aid his sickly thin Uncle to the nearest bedroom, the girl still following behind them, quiet and almost too still. His Uncle trembled within his cocoon of blankets not a minute later, and had looked at Bilbo with a light fading in his dark eyes. _

_Skin ashen and draw tight against his bones, and once thick curls falling onto the sheets and the onto the hobbit's now frail shoulders. It was so strange to Bilbo, for he had always remembered his Uncle Marroc as a taller than average hobbit, broad shouldered and always with a merry laugh bubbling from his throat. Hair as thick as grass, brown as the rich earth and tousled wildly like thrown by the wind, and a sparkle in his clever dark eyes. His favorite Uncle, always one to encourage him as a child to look for elves in the forest, and other such nonsense. But the Marroc before him was nothing but a weak shadow of the one he had known, and his heart wrenched at the pitiful sight of the tiny child who curled to his side, clinging to him as if she was the one in such a state._

"_Care for my little Ivy. Please Bilbo, she won't be safe but with you. Promise me." he had hoarsely crooked out, face twisting in pain, stroking the girl's fiery hair._

_His weak hand had grasped onto his, and the young Bilbo had noted the protruding veins as well as the brittle feeling of his Uncle's skin. He had been stunned of course, he was not yet the adulthood age of thirty-three, being only twenty-seven, and nowhere near as well adapted to raising a child as his Took side of the family. Yet something in his Uncle's dull eyes had made him agree._

"_I... Very well Uncle. I promise you." he had said softly._

"_Thank you... You were always my favorite lad, a Took through and through... I hope you will stay that way Bilbo Baggins. Know just one other thing about my Ivy... I thank you for filling in the last request of a dying hobbit, but you must know this... Come here, closer!" said the hobbit fiercely._

_Bilbo had indeed come closer, and his Uncle had whisper the secrets of his cousin's origins into his pointed ears with his dying, shuttering breath. He had stared at his Uncles still face for a long moment, before his eyes had lifted to meet a pair of young, tear filled eyes. The owner of those eyes had reached out to him, and he had reached back. At that moment, with his little cousin tightly held in his arms, one Bilbo Baggins had known that his life would never be the same._

"Bilbo?" asked a quiet voice, starling said hobbit out of his wits and making him look upwards to the curious gaze of the person he had been thinking of.

He sighed sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving his cousin a steady, glaring glance.

"Trying to scare the life out of me?" he asked irritably, untucking his handkerchief from his breast pocket to whip his nose as he gave a mock sniff.

Ivy let out another crackle of a laugh, flipping the now wet hair out of her face for what felt like the hundredth time.

"No. Just trying to break you out of your doze... Second-breakfast time you know." she replied, tugging on one of his brown curls with amusement clearly in her eyes.

He huffed as they walked to the kitchen, taking everything they needed and sat down for a light, second breakfast. They ate almost silently, speaking softly when they chose to and eating their simple breakfast without much incident. Bilbo argued to her about her eating habits, and Ivy did the same as she finished her rather large plate, which had been stacked with food as high as her shoulder. When they were finished with the last of the honey-caked desert they washed the dishes together, and at the older full hobbit's request treated the fine old china with care. As they had agreed to before, the two cousins went out to sit in the front garden, sitting amongst the flowers they had planted with care, Bilbo smoking his long pipe and letting out large, impressive rings of smoke, Ivy tending to her harp, plucking the strings with an expert hands.

"Play that lively tune, would you please Ivy?"said the older of the two after a moment, a smile on his face as he let out another set of rings.

Ivy smiled at her cousin's request, and with daft fingers, played the song on her cousin's mind. It was an old song, filled with quick notes, almost too quick for her fingers, something, and one of the only things her father had actually managed to teach her before his death. It was a uplifting melody, one that never failed to reminder her of his soft, throaty chuckle that had belonged to her teacher, and one that never failed to make her smile. Her cousin loved it as well, and hummed to the wordless tune with a jaunt to his vocals, puffing away at his pipe with a content smile, large and hairy toes wiggling.

It was moments like these that were completely normal to the Baggins and Took family of two that lived on the Bag End. Calm, quiet and with a touch of familial tenderness rising through the air as each of the cousins did their respected occupations. A perfect morning to their regular lives... That, was until each of the cousins spotted a towering, gray draped figure, walking up to them along the much used dirt path that lead to the deeper part of the Shire.

His tall, blue wide brim hat sat low on his head, and a long wooden staff that was as gnarled as the heavily veined, yet strong looking hands that held it. A bright sliver scarf adorned his broad shoulders, and a pair of black, heavy boots adorned his feat. A pipe, much like that of Bilbo's came from his lips, the pale wood stark against the pale pepper of his long bread. He froze just a little ways away from the two cousins, heavy brows down, breaded face looking thoughtful as he came up to them, tilting his head to the side, leaning heavily against his staff.

As always, her elder cousin of twenty three years couldn't help but be nervous, especially at such a tall, strange man staring at the pair of them so intently. With as much finesse as he could managed, he arranged Ivy so that she sat the farthest away, and smiled up at the old man.

"Good morning." he said brightly.

And Bilbo truly meant that the morning was good, for it was a splendid day in the Shire, the sun was bright even in the early morn, and shinned down onto the earth with a warm laziness, the grass was as bright a green as grass could ever be, and his little cousin still played her harp. Ivy smiled at the man, noting that his scruffy brows titled opposite to each other, one up, the other down upon his sparkling icy eye.

"What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?" said the old man, a slight smile titling on his lips behind the tangle of his beard.

Bilbo's smiled falter for just a second, but Ivy's guardian wasn't one to shirk the duties of niceness, even with cryptic words from a stranger.

"All of those, fine is the morning with nothing but my pipe and its smoke, with my cousin playing to the air, yes, a good morning." said Bilbo firmly, puffing out a few smoke rings to prove his point.

The old man raised his other brow, and bowed his head gently to Ivy.

"Ah, yes, very pretty. But I have no time for pretty things such as smoke-rings from your pipe, or notes from your harp. I am pressed for time. I have a grand adventure to go on, and I am trying to find someone to share it with me."

Both Bilbo and Ivy froze at his words. Both their hearts seemed to stop as well, though for completely different reasons. It was all until after a moment that they started again, rapid with excitement for the younger of the two, nervousness for the older, and on both their parts more than a little fear.

"No adventures shall ever be needed in these parts stranger, for us of the Shire are calm, lazy sort. You may try over The Hill or across The Water." said Bilbo softly, gesturing with his pipe before returning it to his mouth.

The old man just stared at them, gaze flickering evenly between the two hobbits (really a hobbit and a half-hobbit) sitting in their front, lush garden. Ivy herself stopped her harp playing delicately; letting the strong notes fade over time as she gazed at this gray stranger, wondering where on earth she had heard, or seen such a man like this.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" asked Ivy, speaking for the first time, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Ah, yes, you may not know of me young one, but I do know of you and your cousin; Bilbo Baggins and Ivy Took. Such an odd world where I must be greeted as a common wander coming up the road to Belladonna Took's son and Marroc Took's daughter! I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me." said the old man, really wizard with a firm tone to his strong voice.

Both Ivy and Bilbo breathed in a gasp. Memories of stories, from family and from each other sparked to their minds.

"The Grey Wanderer?" asked Ivy, her already wide eyes growing wider in her surprise.

Seemingly please with her words, he nodded, eyes sparkling and underneath his thick beard Ivy knew a smile was present.

"Oh, not that Gandalf, for sure! The one who was always set on giving out adventures to those of the Shire, wild things from climbing trees to sailing on ships, and other such things! Oh, I did not know you where still in business!"cried Bilbo at her side, looking distressed.

"Where else should I be?All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me... Indeed for your old grandfather Took's sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna and Marroc, I will give you what you asked for."said the wizard.

"I have asked for nothing!"screamed her cousin.

"On the contrary Bilbo, you have. And so has your cousin, Ivy, even with her silence. I will send you both on a adventure of course. It will amuse me, be good for you and your cousin, and profitable... Yes, very profitable. " said Gandalf simply.

Bilbo gaped, while Ivy looked to the wizard with firm stare. It was then that her cousin jumped up, firmly grabbed her thin wrist, and started to scuttle away.

"There are no adventures wanted here, neither from me or my cousin, so good day Gandalf! Good day and come for tea instead of an adventure, tea is much more wanted! Come anytime you would like!" said her cousin, making her rush, and scuttling close to their precious green door.

Inside Bilbo was a mess, his lovely curls being tugged at, and his waist coat rumpled in his effort to get into the Bag End. Ivy frowned at his frenzy state. She heard the booming, yet muffled laugh of Gandalf quite clearly, and she stiffened when she heard the familiar sizzle of wood. It was a series of strokes, and Ivy knew that the wizard had marked their door, freshly painted as well! But Ivy said nothing as she watched her cousin scramble like a chicken without its head, knowing that a wizard's will, no matter how unwanted by her cousin should not be so easily ignored. That was a dangerous venture that could end quite badly. She sighed as she heard her cousin's wild mumblings.

"Why did I have to invite him for tea!?" exclaimed the man who had raised her, running a hand through his dark curls in frustration.

He walked around for a second, before he proceeded to run to the pantry, and then ate a cake. Then another, and maybe just one more. He paced, mumbling and Ivy let him. He looked flustered beyond belief, and she sighed again. She knew if he went on like this he would be a nervous wreck for hours yet, so she grabbed his arm. He started at her touch, clever, dark blue eyes wide.

"Please cut my hair?" sad Ivy, watching as him as he stared at her, as if he did not understand what she was saying.

Then, he smiled, tensely, but softly at the same time. His frantic movements slowed, his earlier almost lazy elegant movements coming back to him, and he gently touched her hair with a touch that was feather light. He stroked it for a few seconds, careful with such soft strokes and a wondering look as his nimble fingers ran through the fire that passed as hair on his little cousin's head. It was warm he noted, as it always is, almost too warm, hot even, but pleasant all the same. She smiled at his gentle touch, one that was not rare to Ivy in the past twenty two years of living with the man that she saw like a father, yet brother at the same time.

"You need not to ask." he said softly after a moment.

It was when she heard the familiar sound of scissors, and gentle hands brushing through her endless hair did Ivy know that her cousin was calmer now. He had done this too many times over the years that she had lived at the Bag End, and Ivy knew that he would do it many times over. A tradition of sorts had been made, and she would not let anyone else in the world touch her rather... Volatile hair. He snipped and brushed with the care one would show to an infant, and he mused that it had been quite a shock the first time the small girl had asked, hair so long that it trailed on the floor. Her cat eyes had been so expectant, scissors in hands.

"Done." he said softly, and even without turning around Ivy knew that her cousin was rather pleased with his work, and grinning his head off.

"Thank you." she said softly, running her fingertips through her hair before standing.

Together they gathered the strands on the floor, careful not to miss even one, knowing how well that would go before they threw them into the hearth with caution. They both stepped back quickly, quite ready for the explosion and rush of fire out of the fireplace. The colors of the fire seemed to grow brighter, and they almost reached the ceiling before they faded down, almost like something sucked them back into the hearth, until they settled just as before, though still slightly larger than before, colors some how more vivid.

"Always pretty."commented Bilbo calmly, inspecting the ceiling with care in case it had been scorched... Again.

He noted that it wasn't black, thankfully, since he had no great urge to paint over it anytime soon. They had aimed it perfectly this time, careful not to throw the hair quite directly into the flame, but close enough that they would ignite instantly. That had been a mistake that little Ivy had done when she had first done that in front of him. He himself had had the misfortune of being a bit too close to the fireplace the first time. His eyebrows, no matter how he wished it, never had grown back the same afterward. He didn't blame her though, after all, she had been a five year old doing as she always did with her father, who must have enjoyed the more 'adventurous' reaction of direct flame contact.

"I suppose, seems more trouble than its worth." said Ivy, sweeping up the ashes that had blown out of the fireplace.

Her cousin had the audacity to snort, and she had no choice but to throw the broom at him. He protested that with a loud squawk, rubbing his sore bottom where the very tip of the broom had hit and then hung the broom over his head to fling it at her, turning to her with a vengeance. She dodged promptly at his rather dismal throw, and raised a brow at his sheepish face as it hit the ashes she had just collected and sprayed them everywhere. Luckily for her, she had jumped back and not stained by the soot.

"Oh, don't say a word." he snapped softly, blushing as he went to collect the ashes himself.

Ivy shook her head and walked promptly off, finding no need for her cousin antics. Cutting her hair always took a toll on her, and her cousin made no comment as she left, calling a simple good nap to her as she went to her room with a small wave.

It was, by her own personal choice, one of the smallest rooms of Bag End. She didn't need much room really, just enough for her small bed, an even smaller wardrobe, the vanity that served more of as a desk, and her personal book shelf. The window seat that looked over the back garden and field was perfect to her, and was what had drawn her to this room in the first place, despite its size. It allowed her to read at almost at all times with natural light, and the warmth of the sun hit the window seat just right as well... And Ivy liked warmth, craved it and needed it desperately. She found most things not warm enough... With a slight sigh, Ivy thought back to the wizard's words, sitting in her favorite spot of the window seat, curling up in the sunlight and simply thinking with it warming her flesh pleasantly.

An adventure. What a wonderful thought, to leave the Shire and go into the world... See how large it really was beyond the bright green fields and the wagging tongues that the Shire always offered. It would be wonderful, she thought, to be able to see what the lines drawings of Bilbo's maps really were, to see beyond the river waters and over the Hill... And maybe, she thought softly, fear and sorrow in her heart, to find out exactly what happened to her mother. It was with that thought that Ivy fell into a quiet sleep.

_~o~_

She didn't wake up until it was early night, shadows across her, and she jumped as she heard the loudest noises she had ever heard in Bag End, which mostly consisted of very loud handling of fine, very old china. It was a song she noted, a rather rude one that was talking of destroying Bilbo's plates and silverware, which were one of the only things his mother had left him when she had died. Which meant that her cousin was going to be quite displeased. Quiet as a mouse, she readied herself, wary, listening to the song, and the harsh beat of booted feet, as well as the frantic tones of her cousin's voice.

"_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates! So, carefully! Carefully with the plates!_" chorused a collection of many voices, finally finishing the song.

When Ivy entered the kitchen, she had not, never in her life, imagined that the collection of voices would have turned out to be dwarfs. Nor her cousin's very, very mad, face, looking at the stacked up and clean china with a vein throbbing in his red temple. While her cousin wasn't amused, it seemed that everyone else looked quite pleased with themselves. Each dwarf's bearded face carried a rather large grin, or at the very least, an amused twinkle in their expressive eyes. They jeered at her cousin greatly, amusing themselves more, calling for more food when there was obviously little left, and Ivy watched it all with a slight frown on her face. There was an especially amused wizard that was smoking his pipe in the corner she noted, gaze locking with his form, as he had caused all of this. When he looked up, he caught her gaze. From the movement of his long beard, she thought that the wizard had smiled.

"Ah, Ivy, so glad you could join us." said he, Gandalf.

Every soul in the kitchen turn to look at her just then, and each eye widen rather greatly at her. She expected, just as she had, they hadn't imagined her in this house. The dwarfs looked mighty aghast, but not as much as Bilbo, who let out an yelp.

"IVY! Your up, I thought you'd sleep a while more! Are you alright?!" he asked, scrambling forward, now ignoring the dwarfs and his wizard guests.

He grabbed onto her arm, and checked the length of her hair, and noted that it was only a few inches longer since he had cut it in the early morning, which meant that nothing had happen. He breathed a sigh of relief, until he noticed that his little cousin was in the presence of many male dwarfs, which, in turn made him give another yelp.

"I heard the loudest noises that had ever met the Bag End." said Ivy after a moment, plainly, studying the twelve dwarfs in front of her.

They all flinched, and smiled at her timidly, or at least the ones with what she assumed were of a more much joyous deposition. She tilted her head to the side, a bit like a cat, and walked forward, looking at the plates in front of her. None of them were harmed she noted. Good. So much for blunting the knifes she thought dryly as she ran her fingers over a butter knife.

"Kili, at your service." said a voice to her right suddenly.

He was dark haired, taller than her as were most, and with the starting stumble of a beard on his youthful face, nothing like what most of the party was sporting. He looked at her as nervously as the rest, but he was the bravest to talk, or at least she thought. She smiled softly at the dwarf.

"Ivy Took, at yours." she said simply, ducking her head in a bow, which he copied.

Her four simple words set off a wave of motion, and all the dwarfs stood to introduce themselves, one by one, swarming forward.

"Fili, at your service." said the next dwarf, elbowing Kili out of the way with good nature.

Fili was of a fairer color than Kili, yet they looked like the other in strange, subtle ways, obviously related, in Ivy's opinion. He bowed a little lower than Kili had as he finished his introduction, before he was pushed promptly out of the way by grisly gray haired dwarf, who had a very fierce look to him.

"Oin, at your service." he said gruffly.

He moved aside for the next dwarf, one who was as gruff as him, and just as fierce, but brown haired and gentler looking because of it.

"Gloin at your service."

He was shoved more harshly away than either Fili or Kili had been, and a large, very burly dwarf with dark eyes and dark hair took his place.

"Dwalin at your service." he said grunting, before allowing the next dwarf to be in front of her.

This dwarf was simply smiling, a grand one and full of humor. His light brown hair, and beard was shorter than the others, strangely enough, the only shorter ones were of Fili and Kili. But, he had gray which suggest age...

"Ori at your service!"he said cheerfully, moving out of the way for the next dwarf.

"Nori at your service."said the next, brown hair strange and shaped almost like a star on top of his head.

Then he moved aside. In his place was an older dwarf, beard sliver and tucked away.

"Dori at your service."he said, then moved aside.

"Bombur at your service." said the next, largest dwarf, happily chewing on a cake.

He moved aside for the next easily, who was odd with his braided hair sticking straight out, almost hitting her in his gentle haste.

"Bofur at your service." said the next with a cheeky grin on his face, before moving aside.

"Bifur at your service." said the next, in which Ivy wondered if he knew that he had a small ax in his head...

He moved aside as well, and the next came forward slower than the others had, beard pure white and gaze serious, but friendly as he stood before her. The others looked to him, even the most fiercest, and she wonder just who he was to them.

"Balin, at you service." he said with a nod to his head.

Ivy smiled at the lot of them, curtsying and lowering her head as elegantly as she could in trousers.

"Pleasure to meet you all; at your services." she said said softly.

The dwarfs stared at her cousin with confusion on their faces as Bilbo suddenly yelped, jumping to her side in less than a second. His hands settle on her waist, where he squeezed gently and he quickly ushered her to a seat, a frown and mutters on his lips.

"I'll get your 'medicine' and some food... Whatever's left of it..." he said it simply and worriedly, and Ivy sighed as he ran off.

She stared after him with a frown, knowing what he meant and absently winding the strands of her hair through her fingers.

"Medicine? Are you ill child?" asked a voice to her left.

Ivy looked to see Gandalf, bright eyes concerned and a frown showing up beneath his beard. Ivy smiled wistfully, looking to see where her cousin had disappeared to. He was surly looking over the book now. The book with the writing that was at first neat and steady, not elegant per say but beautiful in its simplicity, and had turned slowly and agonizingly inelegant in its form. The writing that toward the end was almost unrecognizable. Her father's book that they had found in his pack, along with his will... The book that contained the recipe for her 'medicine'(as well as anything needed to care for her), which was simply a drink that her father had made her every night, something warm and sweet; an orphan's comfort that her guardian never failed to make after that first tearful night without it.

"No, I'm not."she said simply after a moment, the wistful smile growing on her lips.

The wizard gave her a look, while the dwarfs looked on to her with confusion. She simply gave out a hearty, knowing and flame crackled laugh that made some of the younger dwarfs jump a mile high. That only made her laugh more, and in her mirth she grinned madly, finally calming down as the dwarfs joined in her laughter. Bilbo came back soon after her laughing fit, with the guest of their house settling warily around the table again, eying Ivy as if she would fall over dead or something as silly as that. With a sigh, Bilbo settled the laden plate in front of her, setting the steaming mug of her 'medicine' beside it with a flare. With a practiced movement he kissed her forehead, not caring they were in foreign company and smoothing away the strands of her bangs, the one thing that dared to remain short on her head.

"Mistress Took, just who are_** you**_? What are you doing in the house of Master Baggins?"asked Balin with a raised snowy brow.

Ivy blinked at his words, noting the rather, delicate and wary note to his tone and opened her mouth to explain, just as Bilbo did. They did not get even a sound out because a very precise, thundering knock hit their front door. Before Bilbo could move, or even think, Ivy stood, ignoring her dinner for now and walking to the door with a tilted head, cousin and wizard at her heels and those of the previously loud kitchen now silent in the wake of the knock. Ivy could almost hear the tension that had settled in the kitchen because of such knock, and wondered just who did they expect. She walked easily and confidently, wondering if the tension was caused by another dwarf and if they had come to raid their pantry, and opened the door with an amused smile on her lips. The person on their door step was indeed a dwarf, but unlike the others, with their wild, rude, and gruff demeanors, this one made her freeze with wariness.

He was tall. That was the first thought that settled firmly into her mind. She was small, how could a hobbit not be, and many, if not all of the dwarfs in the kitchen were quite positively taller than her. But in his very presences, Ivy felt as she was all the more smaller. He was tall and built broadly, not obnoxiously nor over zealously so, but strong and rugged in his build. Someone who had worked hard, and possibly fought in their lifetime, extensively, almost religiously to keep such a build. His large hands were another thing she noticed. Rough, calloused and scarred. Not a lazy man in any esteem. When she looked up to his face, Ivy noticed a single raised brow in her direction, past the angry and bored tilt in the other. Fierce, grey orbs glanced at her cousin, then at her. They were as hard as steel, and seemed molten hot in the wake of his emotion. His mouth was firm, solemn bellow his black and peppered beard, as were the stands of his braided hair. His gaze did not waver from her, mild, yet not really there surprise on his features. Like the other dwarfs, Ivy expected that the one in front of her had not expected to see her. He almost looked furious after a second, eyes narrowing as he gazed at her.

"Ah! Thorin, good of you to join us, I trust you found this place easily enough?"said Gandalf

His air, and his gait as he stepped forward were that of a king, commanding. Proud. Fierce. With an ease and not quite rough elegance, he removed his cloak, reviling the strange and almost wild clothing that the other dwarfs wore.

"Gandalf, seems that the mark has faded this late into the night. Hard to see in this light." said he simply.

His voice was strong and solemn. Deep and reassuring, yet, in the end it held a harsh note that made Ivy frown as she moved forward to grab the cloak he removed, ignoring his questioning, hard glance as she put it with the rest of dwafs' cloaks, and weaponry that made Ivy quite envious.

"Yes, yes. Ivy, Bilbo, may I introduce Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of the Thror, King Under the Mountain, leader of this company. To the kitchen to conference?"said Gandalf merrily, leading them firmly back to the kitchen with a push of his staff to the smallest two.

Once they settled, the one called Thorin Oakenshield was presented with a meal and Ivy settled in front of her's, Gandalf himself settled into the corner, lighting his pipe with an amusement dancing in his eyes. The two eating did so quietly, the smallest of the two finishing quickly and sipping at her warm drink quite comfortably, enjoying the sweet, honeyed taste. Curious glances were sent to the mug by much of the dwarfs, who mostly kept their gaze to the leader of their company.

"Thorin, the Master of the house, one Bilbo Baggins. Your burglar of course. And his cousin and ward, Mistress Ivy Took. Another useful addition to your company."said Gandalf simply, after Thorin had finished himself.

The moment he had said burglar for her cousin, Ivy had stood at attention and tilted her 'medicine' over with her quick movement (she had thankfully caught the mug before it had spilled though)and blinked at the wizard. The moment_** she**_ had been introduced to the leader of the company, the dwarfs, including said leader with the kingly air had stood straight up, most gaping at the smiling wizard. Thorin Oakenshielf himself looked at the wizard with a harsh glare, disbelief in his glare. His company talked mostly all at once, disbelief in their tones and questions on their tongues. He himself said not a word, but Ivy saw he was almost bursting at the seams with anger. At what, she still didn't understand.

"Pardon?" asked Ivy softly as the company noise died down at the sound of her calm tone.

Gandalf turned to her with a slight nod to his head, looking apologetic. The rest stared at her with wide eyes, save for Thorin, who eyes narrowed even further.

"Of course, how rude of me. I did not tell you, did I? Your cousin is ideal for a burglar, small, quick on his feet and quiet as all hobbits are, don't your agree?"

Bilbo himself gave out what seemed to be a slightly disbelieving snort. Ivy however, thought to how many times her cousin had snuck up on _**her**_ over the years. She gave the wizard a raised brow, but smiled at him as well.

"Agreed."

"See Gandalf, my own cousin knows me best- _**WHAT**_?!"screeched Bilbo, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

Ivy shrugged and turn to the conversation of their guest.

"What do you mean _**useful**_? What can a she half-elf do?" asked Thorin Oakenshield.

Gandalf puffed his pipe, smoke colorful and in mystical shapes.

"Many, useful things. She mighty fine girl with a strong head on her shoulders."said Gandalf.

"She wouldn't last a second in the wilds. We've come for a fourteenth member and you don't even bring us that Gandalf. Two things of a half will not make one whole in this case." growled Thorin, eyes narrowing as he looked over at the two cousins.

A halfling that looked as if he didn't even understand the meaning of the word burglar, eyes clever but skittish, clearly not fit for the hardship of the wilds, plump and looked as if he never even seen a sword, or any other weapon, let alone wielded one. And... And the girl. What was she?! She was a halfling, that much was certain, he could see that, her stature couldn't mean anything else. But she _**wasn't**_. She looked like an elf, and he had stated her as a half-elf, and he thought she was... But was she really? He knew the features of that hated race well, it was burned into his mind and his angers. But her's were wrong somehow. The set of her willowy form, and face were not quite right, and the quiet air not usual to their blathering, 'cheerful' race. But, aside from the question disagreeable race, that chit of a girl looked as if she could never survive a foot outside this hobbit hole, let alone into the wilds, all the way to the Lonely Mountain and against Smaug the Terrible!

"I'm not." said the girl, a frown on her pale lips as she looked at him.

"Not what?" he snapped.

The girl simply raised a infuriatingly elegant brow, just as an elf would have. Her cousin, Bilbo, his supposed burglar sighed and shook his head at the girl.

"Ivy, how many times have I told you, full sentences when talking to anyone other than me, you know that... She's means to say she's not a half-elf." he said, looking to the him with a frown.

He almost seemed not to be able to look at him directly, as if afraid. But he kept his gaze steady, most likely for the girl's sake.

"What is she then?" asked his curious nephew, Fili, speaking for the first time since he had arrived.

The 'burglar' halfling looked towards his nephew with disapproving glance. His blue eyes narrowed, and his hand touched his cousin's gently.

"None of your business." he said simply, firmly, yet somehow not disagreeably.

Protective of the ward thought an irritated Thorin, thinking also that the hobbit only ever seemed to show any backbone when it came to the girl next to him.

"Thorin, what news from the other dwarfs?" said Balin suddenly, urgently.

Thorin frowned at the sudden and topic changing reminder of the rejection from his brethren. No dwarf deemed this quest, the quest for his home and birthright worthy of their lives, of even their time. Not a single army stood beside him, even as he pledged to bring his kingdom back. To bring some of them of their lost home back! Only the twelve dwarfs before him, along with a wizard(a feat despite everything) were loyal, brave, and perhaps foolish enough to stand beside him. And because of that he felt honor bound to inform them of this.

"They will not come." he told his old friend plainly.

His company grew stiller with those simple four words. Those old enough to understand, truly understand the dangers looked morose yet ready, stances fierce. Those too young, primarily his nephews looked as if a extra challenge had simply been added, a little wariness in their readied stances, but excitement foolhardiness of youth present. All of them were ready...

"One thing is for certain... I would not trade a single one of you for an army, simply because you chose to stand beside me." said Thorin after a moment.

A hearty chuckle sounded from Gandalf, who put out his pipe and put it away, towering and almost touching the ceiling he gestured to Balin.

"Excellent, well said... Now, as we plan to depart early tomorrow morning, I suggest we set up both Bilbo's and Ivy's contracts!"

Thorin felt the rest of the company shift uneasily at the declaration. More than one glance with disbelieving eyes towards their 'burglar', and all looked to the wisp that passed for a female halfling with great caution and more than a little worry. Their burglar was nothing more than a well to do man, fat and though seemed clever, not the sort to brave the wilds. He was timid as well, and clutched the wisp tightly, like a mother hen did to her broad. That brought his attention to the girl again, and he scowled. To bring a woman into the quest, no matter how old or young, good or poor a warrior was not what a male dwarf was meant to do. Ugly, and as harsh and fierce as their woman were, they were few and precious. Any female, no matter the species, were in their eyes, the same. Precious, ones that would never brave the wild without a do cause. And the fiery headed girl had no such reason, nothing more than a wizard's will. That in itself, could be a good cause, but Thorin would rather not take a reason less than Smaug coming down to take over the Shire to let the girl come with them.

Besides, he thought as he started forward, ready to speak, the girl would bring nothing but trouble, as well as slow than down.

"I refuse. The burglar nor the girl shall come with us." he said it firmly, no room for discussion in his tone.

And then the wizard moved. His face usually so joyous took a darker side. It was then that all those inside of Bag End truly understood that wizards, as it was rumored, were not ones to cross, and it seemed that Thorin had done just that. Shadows danced and grew with the intensity of Gandalf's anger, and fire dimmed in his wake. Everyone in the room other than the wizard drew back, and it felt to Ivy as if she couldn't breath. His face was full of fury beyond their understanding, and he towered over them all as he thundered:

"If a burglar is what I call him, than a burglar he is! If I say the girl goes, then the girl goes! Thorin Oakenshield you came for me in need of a fourteenth party member, and I have brought you that and a fifteenth! Do not throw away these people so quickly for their appearance!"

With the last word spoken, Gandalf drew back, shadows with him, and the fire in the hearth sparked back to life. Ivy herself felt the breathe whoosh back into her, and let out a sigh of relief. She sincerely hoped that Gandalf never ever did that again with her present.

"Fine. Balin, the contracts." said Thorin, voice clipped, and face hard.

Balin, took a long look at the younger dwarf before he took out two large pieces of parchment, writing several things down before laying them out on the table carefully.

"Master Baggins, Misstress Took, your contracts. It states you both will receive a fifteenth of whatever profits that we gain, and that we are not liable to any harm you are to come too. And that we shall cover any funeral costs." said Balin calmly.

Bilbo gave out a squeak.

"Harm, funeral cost?"said he, eyes large.

Both Fili and Kili had looks of mischief in their eyes as the suddenly circled her cousin.

"Oh, yes, harm! Dragons tend to do that you know!" said Kili.

"Dragon's fire can melt the very flesh off your burns and turn your bones into ash in a mere second!" said Fili.

They laughed and jeered with glee at her cousin's face, and Ivy frowned. With a deliberate air, she did the only thing she could really think to do to stop the whole affair. Gently tugging the quill out of Balin's calloused hands, the room growing silent at her movement, Ivy dipped the feather into the inkwell. She moved towards the contract that held her name, and with a simple sigh, moved to sign it. A large, scarred, calloused hand set itself on top of it. She looked up to see the narrowed gaze of Thorin, a frown mashed in his firm mouth and his brows were tilted furiously. She felt a single brow lift up at his movement, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Gandalf stand. Not wanting to feel the lack of breath of early, she compelled herself to speak, and following her cousin's advice, spoke in full sentences:

"Something the matter Master Oakensheild?" she said it softly, using his gained title on purpose so as not to seem disrespectful.

Said master, King of the lonely Mountain frowned further.

"Are you sure you are up to this Lady Took? Can you defend yourself, can you defend others, and can you not be a burden on this trip?"said Thorin tightly, his gray eyes narrowed.

Ivy, not used to such a formal address, took a moment to think of her answer. Her cat tilted eyes, blue as the hottest flame locked with Thorin's gray.

"I can brave whatever disaster is thrown my way. I can use a sword if it is at hand, I have my own bow to carry upon my back, and my will is strong enough to carry me farther than to the Lonely Mountain. I will not slow you down, nor become a burden. It is simply not my way." she said it softly, her voice strong as she said the most she had said for a month.

Thorin, taking in her steady gaze felt his hand lift away from the parchment. He did not know what had compelled him to do so, but taking in the girl's stare could not help but allow her to sign in an elegant script her name.

_Ivy Azar Took_

It was done. Part of him wondered at her strange second name, but dismissed it as he heard the loud, very distressed voice of the half-ling ring through the air.

"IVY AZAR TOOK!" he said, echoing the words on parchment.

The girl smiled at her guardian, and with a firm nod and excuse us, she pulled him out of the crowded room without another word, the wizard hot on their heels.

"Ivy, what in heaven's name were you thinking!"whispered Bilbo harshly, face pale.

Ivy smiled at her cousin, wisdom in the simple tilt of her lips.

"I must go." she said softly.

He shook his head, ignoring the wizard who watched their exchange between the two. He felt something akin to panic eat at him, and he knew that quite possibly he could lose his cousin in this mess. That was the one thing he refused to allow.

"No, no you don't. All we have to do is go in there and rip that contract to pieces, and we can live our normal, peaceful lives." he said sternly.

They both turn at the snort of the wizard, who smiled down at them with an air of knowledge.

"Ah, but Bilbo, you know in your hearts of hearts all you wish to do is go with her." said the wizard, not unkindly.

Bilbo stilled at his words, and looked down to his toes. The wizard spoke the truth, and it ate at his conscious as a hobbit.

"Will you know that we will come back?" he said softly, not looking away from his toes.

The wizard took a moment to answer, but was soft in the somewhat depressing words;

"No, I cannot." without another word, the wizard left the two cousins in peace.

Silence reached the both of them, and Bilbo moved in a flurry of motion to grip his cousin's slender, deceivingly frail shoulders.

"Why must you go, why must you risk your fool neck!" he said in a desperate, harassed voice.

"My mother, my past, what I am." said Ivy looking into his dark eyes with a rueful smile.

The protests in Bilbo's mind died with those simple seven words. His grip, tight on his cousin's shoulders faltered.

"Ivy..."he said it with sorrow in his tone.

Without another word Ivy embraced her cousin. He returned it with a soft sigh. His grip was almost painful, and so was her's.

"Whether you are a burglar, whether you stay, I will always return to you cousin. May it take days, may it take centuries, I will always return to the Bag End to you. Always."

The warm embrace of his little cousin tightened, and he watched her go as she walked to the kitchen. He listened in the edge of the light from the hearth, in the shadows like a phantom, and listened to their plans of the lonely mountain, listened to his little cousin directing the dwarfs to bed, and watched as she said softly that she would go pack for the journey. His heart, so desperate to go with her, shuddered as the dwarfs started their second song of Bag End. It echoed in his mind, and as Bilbo Baggins settled into a fitful sleep, he knew that he would never forget it.

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold,  
To dungeons deep and caverns old,  
We must away, ere break of day,  
To seek our pale enchanted gold._

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,  
While hammers fell like ringing bells,  
In places deep, where dark things sleep,  
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord  
There many a gleaming golden hoard  
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,  
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung  
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung  
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire  
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,  
To dungeons deep and caverns old,  
We must away, ere break of day,  
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves,  
And harps of gold, where no man delves  
There lay they long, and many a song  
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the heights,  
The wind was moaning in the night,  
The fire was red, it flaming spread,  
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale,  
And men looked up with faces pale.  
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,  
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon.  
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.  
They fled the hall to dying fall  
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim,  
To dungeons deep and caverns dim,  
We must away, ere break of day,  
To win our harps and gold from him!

The wind was on the withered heath,  
But in the forest stirred no leaf:  
There shadows lay be night or day,  
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,  
And like a tide it roared and rolled.  
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,  
And leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;  
All movement in the forest ceased.  
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,  
Its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,  
The reeds were rattling-on it went.  
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,  
Where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare,  
And swept above the dragon's lair:  
There black and dark lay boulders stark,  
And flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight  
Over the wide seas of the night.  
The moon set sale upon the gale,  
And stars were fanned to leaping light.

Under the Mountain dark and tall,  
The King has come unto his hall!  
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,  
And ever so his foes shall fall!

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,  
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong.  
The heart is bold that looks on gold;  
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,  
While hammers fell like ringing bells  
In places deep, where dark things sleep,  
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

On silver necklaces they strung  
The light of stars, on crowns they hung  
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire  
The melody of harps they wrung.

The mountain throne once more is freed!  
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!  
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!  
The king of freind and kin has need.

Now call we over the mountains cold,  
'Come back unto the caverns old!'  
Here at the gates the king awaits,  
His hands are rich with gems and gold.

The king has come unto his hall  
Under the Mountain dark and tall.  
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,  
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!  
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,  
We must away, ere break of day  
Far over the wood and mountain tall.

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell  
In glades beneath the misty fell.  
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,  
And whither then we cannot tell.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,  
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,  
Until at last our toil be passed,  
Our journey done, our errand sped.

We must away! We must away!  
We ride before the break of day!


End file.
